Harry Potter and the Book of Souls

Authors' Notes:

RON: Yay, our first fic! Under this penname, anyway, lol. THIS IS NOT YOUR TYPICAL HP FIC. I will be writing as much romance into this story as I possibly can without getting--

CHO: *THWAP*

RON: I will be writing very little romance in this--

HERMIONE: *THWAP*

RON: There will be close to no romance in this fic. :: smiles from Cho and Hermione :: We are being as TRUE TO THE BOOKS as you can get while still being an AU fic. (AU 'cuz this is NOT the actual 6th book, lol.) Of course, we do not own Harry Potter. Ron and Hermione, though, are our literary slaves and...no, they're J.K. Rowling's, too. L Oh, well, lol.

HARRY: You guys have had your say. Enjoy the story! ~_^

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Chapter 1 -- The Attempt

There was a blinding flash of green light. Next moment, Harry Potter was on his knees, clutching his burning scar and scrunching his bright green eyes tightly together, causing streams of tears to come out of his emerald orbs. He could hear the loud footsteps of the Dursleys rushing up the narrow stairs, causing the floorboards and the weak banister to creak loudly under the strain of their bulk. As Dudley furiously tried to squeeze his killer whale-sized body up the constricted passage, the railings gave into his enormous weight and a loud crunch could be heard as the banister collapsed. A petrified scream and several more rushed steps were heard before a loud bang told Harry that the Dursleys had locked themselves into a bedroom.

Harry crawled upon his trembling knees before managing to pull himself onto the windowsill and glance outside. He could see an immense aura of green light that hung like a heavy mist around Number Four, Privet Drive. Nothing-- not even a cat-- was visible on the street below. Yet, as the emerald light pulsated, illuminating the deserted street, Harry could feel a throbbing pain as if a large fist was hammering his skull and a searing pain as if his scar was being branded onto his forehead.

As soon as it had started, the pain and light had disappeared as if it had been a figment of his imagination. Knowing the perpetrator of the night's singular events, Harry quickly grabbed his quill and a scrap of spare parchment. Dipping his eagle-feathered quill into a small bottle of black ink, he began to write:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I'm not sure where to begin because of the many things running through my mind. A few minutes ago, I felt my scar hurting again, and by now, I know that it usually means that Voldemort is back in action. At the same time, I also saw an aura of green light surrounding my house. I've never seen anything like this before and it is why I'm writing to you.

Do you think Voldemort is trying to kill me again after his one-year hiatus? Does this mean that he has returned? Why couldn't he break in? The green light looked like a force field protecting me, and for moments, it seemed that he almost broke through.

At this point, he paused to think of how he should continue and whether he was justified in writing Dumbledore. Somehow he knew that Voldemort had tried to kill him that evening-- again-- so he continued.

I do not think it's safe with the wizarding world lured into a false sense of security as it has been over this past year. It is clear that Voldemort is gaining power once again, and not everyone knows of his return. What should we do? I hope that things will turn out for the best.

Harry

Putting his quill down, Harry stood up slowly, stretching and yawning. He walked towards the large metal cage of his snowy owl, Hedwig and opened the door. She was comfortably snoozing with her head underneath her fluffy wing. As Harry gently stroked his pet on her neck, beckoning her to wake, Hedwig turned her head towards him, opened her large, inquisitive, yellow eyes, and hopped onto Harry's arm.

"Hedwig, please take this letter to Professor Dumbledore. It is very urgent so go as fast as you can," Harry whispered to Hedwig as he tied his message onto her outstretched talon. She hooted softly with assurance and gently nipped him on the ear, before spreading her large, white wings. Harry led her to the small opened window and watched her take off his arm and fly into the cloudless night, disappearing over the shingled rooftops.

A strong breeze entered the room as his gaze slowly turned to the dark sky-filled heavens. There was a full moon in the sky, and Harry idly wondered where his former professor, Remus Lupin was at that moment. The stars were out in their full glory, as Harry gazed upward in a futile attempt to count all the points of light in the glowing band of the Milky Way. Mars was brighter than ever before, rising in the dark horizon and emanating it's hypnotic, blood red glow upon the Earth below.

As his scintillating emerald orbs scanned the street outside, he looked down Magnolia Crescent and could make out his old babysitter's house. He unconsciously shuddered at the thought of all of old Mrs. Figg's numerous cats. He was just about to turn away, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a cloaked woman at the end of the desolate street. He stared at her for a moment, when all of a sudden, the unmistakable Knight Bus popped into view. He watched the woman climb onto the triple-decker bus before it rolled off down the quiet street, making entire houses jump out of its way. He couldn't help but smirk at the view, recalling his own ride on the eccentric bus in his third year.

He turned away from the open window, taking off his large, round glasses and kneaded the bridge of his nose to ease the receding pain that was still present on his forehead. Putting his glasses down on the bedside table, Harry decided to turn in early. Taking one last stretch and yawning, Harry crawled onto his small, moth-eaten bed, snuggling into his thin greenish blanket.

Many things were running through Harry's mind as he tried to get some rest, but the last thing he muttered was, "Dumbledore will know what to do."

Several hundred miles away, Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, showed no inclination of sleep, but paced the floor of his large, circular office. Professor Dumbledore periodically gazed out his large, ornately decorated, glazed windows. He peered out at the placid lake near Hagrid's cabin, which clearly reflected the full moon, the luminous stars, and the gleaming presence of the fire planet, Mars. The former headmasters and headmistresses were gathered in a large frame, talking animatedly and playing a thrilling game of wizard chess.

"Something is obviously not right," muttered Dumbledore to himself, ignoring the stentorian chatter around him, with his silver eyebrows knitted together and his piercing blue eyes in a pensive gaze. "Why did she say she was returning?"

Fawkes, his fiery phoenix, cooed sympathetically and flapped his strong, enormous wings. Dumbledore smiled at his faithful pet before the sharp tapping of an owl on his large window facing the placid lake caught his attention. As Dumbledore approached the window to let the owl in, he recognized it as Harry's pet, Hedwig.

"What are you doing here at this time of night, Hedwig?" he asked her curiously as he let her in. Hedwig clicked her sharp beak urgently and flapped her wings before sticking her leg out revealing a letter.

"Is there anything wrong, Hedwig?" Dumbledore inquired, his concern growing at her unusual actions. Hedwig nodded as Dumbledore untied the letter and nudged his wrinkled hand with her curved beak.

Dumbledore smiled at the owl's antics, reminding him of Fawkes when he had first met the rare and marvelous bird. His smile faded however, as he read Harry's letter and he immediately walked to his fireplace.

Throwing some sparkling green floo powder into the fire, Dumbledore yelled "Remus Lupin!"

The flames turned an acid green before a large popping sound filled the room as the head of the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor came into view, floating amidst the green fire.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore. What can I do for you?" Lupin asked politely even though he was a bit worried about being summoned so late at night.

"The wards protecting Harry at his relatives' home are failing. Voldemort attempted to break the protection this evening and almost accomplished his goal. We must take Harry to a safer location."

Throughout his news, the haggard face among the flames grew paler and gaunter. Lupin looked as though he aged several years and added several grey hairs to the collection already present on his scalp.

"Padfoot and I will go first thing tomorrow to get him," he said firmly, "and bring him to Hogwarts."

"That will not be necessary, Remus," said Dumbledore. "Harry may stay with Padfoot and yourself, with your consent of course."

"All right, Professor," responded Remus. "Has the Order been informed?"

"Not yet. Please tell the old crowd of the events and remind them of the meeting on Friday."

"Yes, Professor." replied Lupin. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Remus," replied Dumbledore, as he watched the face disappear from the flames with a pop.

"Harry is right," Dumbledore mused ruefully as he began to restlessly pace the room again. "Voldemort is getting stronger and we need to be prepared."